


This Midnight Moment

by emungere



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal meet again in Florence when Hannibal saves Will from an attack by Mason Verger's men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Midnight Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [The Thought Fox](http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/1999/05/thought-fox-ted-hughes.html) by Ted Hughes.

A fist slammed into Will's left kidney from behind. He didn't know if it belonged to Mason Verger's men or the Italian police. Considering what he'd done since he got to Florence, they both had reason. 

He fell to his knees in the dark alleyway, an impact that jarred his bones. He kicked out behind him, but hit nothing. A flash of brown leather cut across his peripheral vision just before his assailant kicked him in the face. He groped his way to the wall and hauled himself up, turned, and just managed to duck as the man swung for him. 

The man hit the wall instead and swore – in English, which meant Mason Verger, which meant Will really couldn't afford to lose. 

He backed up a few paces, but the guy was on him again, no chance to run, and Will could hear footsteps behind him. He swung at the man's neck and connected. The man bent over, wheezing and waving to his buddy to finish Will off. 

It might not take that much. Breathing hurt. Will was dizzy from the kick to his head, and he could feel blood sliding down the side of his face. He wiped it away from his eye, but his vision didn't clear. He bent low, waiting for the new man to come closer. 

The man did and then he pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open. 

Will dodged the first strike but, in the process, he lost his balance and fell to his knees. The second opened up a cut along his arm. He kicked out, but the man jumped and whirled around with the heavy hilt of the knife directed toward Will's head. 

The blow didn't connect. The man let out a sharp, high scream as he was yanked backward by someone Will couldn't see. Will scrambled back. Both figures were silhouetted against the light from the street, and he couldn't get a clear look. 

Something moved behind him, a drag and a scrape and then he was ducking to avoid the other man, now upright and mobile again. Will staggered to the left as the man came for him. He heard a wet thud, and the man went down with a knife through his eye. 

Will turned toward the mouth of the alley. One body on the ground, one man still standing. Will still couldn't see his face. He limped forward, hand on the damp alley wall for balance. The man came closer. Shadows folded around him, and his face came clear. Will let out his suspended breath and reached for him. 

Hannibal was there in two quick steps, the last almost a lunge as Will swayed. They clung to each other. 

"Is the other one dead too?" Will asked. 

"Yes. I cut his throat." 

"Okay." Then they had time. Will didn't have to let go of him yet. He leaned into him instead and wondered how this felt so natural. They'd barely touched in their old life. Not until the very end. 

Hannibal's hand came up to cradle the back of Will's head, just as he had the last time Will had seen him. "You smell different," Hannibal said. 

"I am different." 

There was a long pause. "So am I. You were right. You have changed me." 

"Have you been waiting to tell me that?"

"Yes." 

Will tightened his fingers on Hannibal's leather jacket and hooked his chin over his shoulder. "If you wanted to talk, you could've made it easier to find you." 

"You're not the only one looking for me." 

"No shit."

Hannibal combed through his hair and felt out the edges of the growing lump on Will's head. "I need to look at this in the light," he said, and paused. "Will you come with me?"

"You think I came all the way to Italy just to let you walk away?" 

Hannibal cupped the side of his face and pressed his lips to Will's temple, soft and lingering. He caught Will's hand and pulled him toward the mouth of the alley. "Come." 

Out on the street, shining darkly under a streetlight, sat what was apparently Hannibal's motorcycle. Hannibal swung a leg over and settled onto it, and Will stared. 

"The leather jacket makes sense now at least," Will said. 

"Get on. There may be more of them nearby." 

Will got on behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. Hannibal laid a hand over his for a moment and then peeled out onto the street with a shocking squeal of rubber against cobblestone. Will clutched at him hard and felt the rumble of his laughter. Any insult would be lost to the wind so Will punched his shoulder instead. 

Hannibal ignored him and kept up what had to be dangerous and illegal speeds down dark narrow roads. He only slowed down once they'd crossed the river. 

Their destination was a gently worn building set back from the road with a curved stone staircase that led up to a courtyard and an arched colonnade. They climbed a second set of steps. Hannibal unlocked a tall wooden door.

The apartment inside was all in shadow. Hannibal left the lights off. He took Will's hand, and Will felt new callouses there. He tried to place them as Hannibal led him into a sleekly modern kitchen and got a bag of ice for his head. 

They stood across from each other, leaning on opposite counters. 

"Nice place," Will said. 

"It's a good location." 

"I saw your ad. I didn't even know TattleCrime had a personals section."

"And yet you thought to look for it." 

"Seemed like your sense of humor." 

The corners of Hannibal's eyes creased in something not quite a smile. "I believe that's an insult." 

Will dropped the bag of ice on the counter and crossed to him, three quick steps. He put his hands on the counter on either side of Hannibal's hips. "I didn't know if I'd ever find you," he said. 

"What did you intend to do if you did?" 

"I've thought a lot about killing you."

"Would you beat me to death?" 

"You asked me if I fantasized I was killing you when I killed Randall Tier. I didn't answer you then." 

"You didn't need to," Hannibal said gently. 

"I guess it was obvious. Did I ever do one thing that wasn't obvious to you? You knew I'd show up here. You knew I had to." 

Hannibal cupped the side of his face. His thumb stroked along the rim of Will's ear, and Will leaned into it. 

"You are anything but obvious," Hannibal said. 

"Did you mean it when you said you forgave me?" 

"Yes. I imagine I would forgive you anything." 

"I dream about you a lot," Will said. 

"Do you dream of killing me?"

"No. Never. They're good dreams, until I wake up. We're happy." 

"What do we do in these dreams?"

Will felt his throat go tight and hot. "I take you fishing. You and Abigail."

"In your stream?"

"No. There's a house, a cabin by a lake. You killed her. You took her from me twice."

"Yes." Hannibal looked at him steadily. "Will you forgive me?" 

Will closed his eyes and nodded. He already had, months ago, lying in a pool of his own and Abigail's blood. He hadn't been able to stop himself. 

"Come upstairs," Hannibal said. He cupped Will's elbow and put an arm around his shoulders and led him deeper into the darkened rooms, up a half flight of steps, and into a loft bedroom. A switch on the wall turned on the gas fireplace. Will stared at the wavering flames, encased in glass and springing up from a scattering of blue reflective crystals. 

In that light, he saw only the warmth in Hannibal's face and nothing else that he knew to be there. Or maybe he was wrong, maybe Hannibal had changed more than he knew. It didn't matter. Will had him either way. 

Hannibal sat on the end of the bed and started undressing. 

"Is this where we were headed all along?" Will said. 

"Do you object?"

"I don't usually object to sex, no. It's not on offer that often. At least I won't get you pregnant." 

"If you did, I wouldn't keep it. Do you think I'm selfish for wanting to keep you to myself?" 

"I think that's the definition of selfishness." 

"But you want the same, or I would be in custody." 

Will took off his shoes and socks and pulled his shirt over his head. His side ached. He looked at the dried blood on his arm. "I should clean this up." 

Hannibal did it for him in the master bath. He stood close to clean the wound and closer to examine Will's head. Their bare shoulders touched, skin sliding on skin, and it was something beyond erotic, physical sensation that spilled immediately into the memory of loss and the knowledge of current possession. Hannibal laid a hand on his hip when he'd finished and leaned close, his cheek against Will's, his breath stirring Will's hair. 

"What happened to Bedelia du Maurier?" Will asked. 

"She wasn't you." 

It was the answer Will had expected. 

Back in the bedroom, he ignored the bed and sat in front of the fire. Hannibal sat down next to him. Will kissed his shoulder, sharp bone and hard muscle under his lips and then his teeth. 

"You never said anything. I didn't know you wanted this." 

Hannibal looked at him, firelight gilding his hair and skin. "I want you in every way. And you? You never said anything either." 

"I didn't think about it. Not until Randall Tier. That night in your basement, cutting him up with you looking over my shoulder. And afterward in the museum. You were so close. You were so proud." 

"You were beautiful. I wanted you more than I knew I could want anything. I thought I had you," Hannibal said. 

"You did." 

"Obviously not." 

Will turned toward him. "No, you did. You do. Didn't I warn you?" he said, and his voice cracked under the strain. "I told you to go." 

Hannibal laid a hand on his chest at the base of his throat and kissed him. Will let out a low noise that sounded like longing even to him. He pressed Hannibal down onto his back on the rug and crawled over him on all fours. Hannibal pulled at him until their bodies were flush. 

Kiss followed kiss, heat spreading from Hannibal's mouth to Will's, along with sweetness and the memory of wine and blood. Hannibal worked at his belt and got it unbuckled, the fly of his pants open, got his cock free. Will breathed in sharply at the first rough stroke and then bucked into Hannibal's grip. 

"Would you do it again?" Hannibal asked, voice low and intimate between them. "What we did with Randall. Would you work with me again?" 

He squeezed Will's cock, and Will squirmed in his grip, thrust, and bent his head. "I've thought about it," he admitted. "Get your clothes off. I want to see you." 

"You've seen me more naked than this already," Hannibal said, but he let go of Will long enough to slide out of his pants and underwear while Will did the same. 

Hannibal kissed him once more and stood to retrieve a glass jar from his bedside table. He knelt in front of Will. The stuff inside spread smoothly onto Will's cock. When Will reached to get some on his fingers, Hannibal caught his wrist. 

"It's not necessary." 

"I haven't done this a lot, but I think it is." 

"Trust me," Hannibal said, and his smile showed his teeth. "Do you trust me, Will?" 

"Should I?"

"In this, yes. You should." 

Hannibal pushed him down onto his back and knelt over him and held his cock as he sank down onto it. Will watched his face. His expression never changed. He betrayed neither pain nor pleasure until he was all the way down and Will's hips jerked up once before he could stop himself. Hannibal's eyes sank closed, and he let out a soft sigh. 

"God, Hannibal." Will both felt and sounded half-strangled with desire and the impossibility of keeping still. He touched Hannibal's shoulders and felt the muscles bunch and shift. 

Hannibal bent over him. He braced his hands on the floor beside Will's head. His chest heaved once. "Just a moment," he said. 

"I'm not going anywhere." How could they part after this? Hannibal had always made the world feel more real to him, more solid and worthwhile. And they had Mason Verger to think about. 

"Will." 

"Sorry."

"You're distracted."

"Not anymore." 

"Not for long, at any rate. I think I can--" He paused, eyes closed, as Will's cock slid a little deeper. His voice was low and rough when he continued. "I can guarantee that." 

"I think you can too. God. Hannibal, come on." 

Hannibal curled his body over Will's and started to move. He rocked his hips forward and ducked his head down. His hair was long enough now to brush Will's face and neck. Will buried his fingers in it and held it back so he could see Hannibal's eyes. 

Hannibal looked straight at him. His eyes slipped closed every few seconds, but he always got them open again, searching Will's face for who knew what. He seemed to find it; he relaxed and his body grew loose and fluid. He rested his forehead against Will's shoulder.

He rode Will hard, and every thrust was accompanied by a soft noise at the back of his throat, so low Will could barely hear them even with Hannibal's lips at his ear. They made Will clutch him closer, hands at the oddly slender dip of his waist and then sliding up his back to draw him down. 

Will's cock shifted deeper inside him, and Hannibal shuddered through a shaky exhale. His fingers curled into Will's hair.

"Don't stop," Will told him softly. 

Hannibal moved again, thrust and thrust, and Will's hands wandered over his skin to feel the contraction and extension of every muscle in his back and thighs. Will listened to his breath go ragged, felt each warm gust of air on his own neck. Sweat built up between their heated bodies. They stuck together everywhere they touched, and the smell of them filled the air with salt and sex. 

Hannibal let out a low rasp of a groan. His body went tight inside and out, squeezing down almost painfully on Will's cock as he rocked quicker and quicker. His forehead pressed hard to Will's cheek, bone against bone, and he started to come. 

Will had been so enmeshed in his observation of Hannibal that his own orgasm shocked him. It swept over him in the seconds after Hannibal finished, inevitable, drawn out of him by the force of Hannibal's body. 

He held Hannibal tight and fucked up into him, and the sounds that drew from Hannibal, unconscious and involuntary and high, sent another course of pleasure through him. It numbed his toes and fingers and deafened him. He rolled Hannibal underneath him, unable to bear the thought of their parting. 

Hannibal made no move to leave, not even to clean up. Will felt a series of tremors pass through him, one after another. Finally he lay still in Will's arms, entirely covered by him. 

"Is this what you wanted?" Will said. 

"I wanted you to become as enamored of me as I was of you," Hannibal said. His voice fell low and rough into Will's ear. "Whatever form that took." 

"You wanted a bond between us."

"I still do."

"You're going to kill Mason Verger for me," Will said. "And I'm going to display him for you. How long do you think that bond will last?" 

Hannibal tightened his arms around him. "Forever," he said. 

Will looked up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure that's long enough. But it'll do for a start."

**Author's Note:**

> You can check out my [original writing here](http://www.eleanorkos.com/) if you're interested.
> 
> [emungere.tumblr.com](http://emungere.tumblr.com)


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